


The Consequences (of staring at Jackson's ass)

by beckybrit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckybrit/pseuds/beckybrit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson's ass gets Stiles in all sorts of trouble - he should stare it more often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Consequences (of staring at Jackson's ass)

**Author's Note:**

> a/n thanks to Fr333bird for all her help and encouragement - I was particularly needy with this!
> 
> Written for the Bodily Secretions square on my kink bingo card.

  
  
  
  
“Derek?” Stiles hisses, tip-toeing into his bedroom and gently closing the door. “Derek?” He narrows his eyes, straining to see in the darkness. He flicks the light switch but nothing happens. “Seriously? You took the bulb out? Okay, fine. That’s...fine.” He shuffles a little further into the room, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. “And you’re supposed to be the adult in our relationship?”  
  
He waits a couple of minutes, but is met by nothing but silence. His room appears to be empty -- maybe he’s just being paranoid. Bulbs go out all the time, right? And Derek’s doing much better with the whole overly possessive thing lately. Sort of... well no not at all really, but Stiles has high hopes.  
  
He breathes a wary sigh of relief all the same. After the mortifying excuse for a pack meeting, the last thing he needs is to be alone with Derek - in his bedroom.  
  
It hadn’t been his fault. Not really…  
  
He hadn’t meant to walk in on Jackson getting changed -- it wasn’t as if Stiles found him attractive or anything, especially as he was, well... _Jackson_ and still pretty much hated Stiles, (the feeling was totally mutual). He was just _there_ though _;_ bent over with his ass on display and, personality deficit aside, it was a nice ass.  
  
Stiles only looked for a second, and honestly he was already comparing it to Derek’s and thinking how much better Derek’s ass was -- because let’s face it, _everything_ about Derek is pretty much perfect -- but as usual his luck was virtually non-existent, and of course Derek and Scott had to walk in at that exact moment. And yes, maybe Stiles was a little bit turned on, but _come on_ \- thinking about Derek’s naked butt always does that to him. And just as Stiles opened his mouth to explain -- not that there was anything _to_ explain, but he can imagine how this looked -- they picked up on his scent and naturally jumped to the all wrong conclusions. Of course they did.  
  
Scott just made a face and punched Stiles in the shoulder as he walked past, but Derek...well, there was growling. And staring. Lots of staring, but thankfully no glowy eyes. So that was something.  
  
Jackson started to follow Scott into the kitchen, grinning over at Stiles because he’d also picked up on Stiles’ arousal, and --being the self-absorbed dick that he was -- got totally the wrong idea too.  
  
“Knew you wanted a piece of this, Stilinksi.” Jackson said, patting his ass and looking unbearably smug.  
  
“Are you insane?” Scott whispered when a low, rumbling growl echoed around the room. He grabbed Jackson by the arm and dragged him out, closing the door behind them.  
  
Derek hadn’t moved once since he’d entered the room and when Stiles looked over at him, his eyes were glowing red, boring into Stiles and making the hairs on the back of neck stand on end. As always with Derek, it was just this side of scary-as-hell, but also incredibly fucking hot.  
There may have been something very wrong with that statement, but Stiles wasn’t inclined to give a shit at that particular moment. He’d decided to save all the introspective bullshit for later - when he didn’t have to try and reason with his pissed off Alpha boyfriend.  
  
Derek had listened to Stiles hasty explanation of “That really wasn’t what it looked like. At all. You know that right?”, with just a grunt and a nod of his head in response. All things considered, Stiles thought that was as good as a “Yes, Stiles, I trust you completely. Everything’s fine.” He didn’t want to push his luck, though and made a hasty retreat with the excuse of having to give Scott a lift home. It had sucked that he didn’t get to have his usual post-pack-meeting make-out session, but that had probably been a good thing -- judging by the way Derek still looked like he wanted to maul something, eyes flashing red every now and again.  
  
  
Stiles slumps back against his bedroom door, resting his head against the thick wood and closes his eyes.  
  
Fuck.  
  
He vividly remembers the feel of those eyes, focused solely on him as they’d raked over his body, setting his bones on fire. His cock twitches in his jeans and as he reaches down to adjust himself, a familiar rumble sounds from the corner of the room.  
  
Stiles’ head shoots up, eyes snapping open to be met with glowing red. “For fuck’s sake, Derek,” he grits out, silently impressed that not only does he not scream like a girl, but he manages to keep his voice low enough not to alert his dad to the fact that he nearly suffered a heart attack. “You scared the crap out of me!”  
  
Stiles scrambles for the light switch, forgetting for a moment that the light suspiciously doesn’t work. He stumbles his way over to his desk and feels around for his lamp, squinting a little when he finally turns it on. He backs up against the wall as Derek stalks towards him in all his dark, brooding glory; teeth elongated and inhumanly sharp.  
  
“You should have known I’d come for you tonight.”  
  
“What?” Stiles asks, confused. “Why?” He knew Derek would want to reaffirm his claim -- in other words have Stiles roll around in his scent -- after the whole Jackson debacle, but he hadn’t expected him to come tonight; not when he knew his Dad would be at home.

  
“I need to know, Stiles.” He’s in front of Stiles now, hands braced on the wall either side of Stiles head. “Do you want Jackson?” Derek leans down, burying his face in Stiles neck, inhaling deeply.  
  
“What?” Stiles repeats, struggling to find words - which is a testament to how _wrong_ that question is. “Jackson?...Why would I?”  
  
“You were watching him.”  
  
“Just for a second, but --”  
  
Derek’s harsh growl cuts him off. “But?”  
  
“But, I don’t want Jackson,” Stiles says, trembling with _something_ as Derek trails his fingers down the side of his face.  
  
“You sure about that?” Derek asks, low and gravelly. He licks over Stiles’ throat, humming with satisfaction as Stiles tilts his neck to the side.  
  
“Yeah, he’s really not my type - what with the whole ‘being a dick’ and everything.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
If Stiles has anything to say in response, it's swallowed by Derek’s mouth as he pins him against the wall with his body and kisses him. Stiles’ mind, normally so active and full of information struggling to get out, is rendered blissfully quiet as he basks in the feeling of Derek draped over him like a blanket.

Stiles gasps into the kiss when Derek shifts his hips, the long line of his cock hard against Stiles’ belly. Derek licks into his mouth, filthily and Stiles would be ashamed of the noises he's making if he wasn’t too busy concentrating on not coming in his pants.  
  
This particular scenario is one of Stiles favorite ‘alone time’ fantasies and he fervently hopes that it ends the same way -- basically with both of them coming (sometimes more than once - he is a teenager after all) and Stiles generally being a sex god.  
  
“I don’t want you looking at anyone else, Stiles,” Derek says, breaking the kiss and mouthing along Stiles’ jaw. Stiles can feel the rough scratch of Derek’s stubble dragging across his skin.  
  
“Hmm..?”  
  
“Are you even listening to me?” Stiles feels teeth, too sharp to be human, rubbing along his skin but not breaking through. “I need to mark you,” Derek growls out and Stiles shivers. “I need to taste you and rub my come all over your skin.”  
  
Well, okay then.  
  
“Um...” and really -- losing his ability to converse whenever Derek uses his _dirty Alpha voice_ is gonna get real old, real fast. Stiles is just thankful it doesn’t happen very often. Yeah, so that was a lie of epic proportions.  
  
Stiles bites his lip as Derek nuzzles into his neck and continues to rut against him with gentle thrusts. Although he isn’t entirely sure about using Derek’s come as some kind of moisturizer -- he can’t imagine it sinking into his skin and leaving it silky-smooth -- he’s totally on board with the first part.  
  
“Bed.” Derek pulls on Stiles’ belt and manhandles him over to the bed.  
  
“You really need to work on your whole seduction technique,” Stiles huffs out, bouncing on the bed where Derek drops him.  
  
Derek raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Hey, I’m not _that_ easy, you know.” Of course he’s that easy but there are pretenses to be upheld. “I need softly spoken words of endearment and gentle handling to--”  
  
Derek glares and bares his teeth.  
  
“Yeah, ok. Shutting up now.”  
  
Stiles’ clothes come off in a flurry of activity that he has little or no part in, and he’s more than happy to lay back and do as he’s told when Derek pushes him down with one hand and takes hold of Stiles’ dick with the other.  
  
“Mine,” Derek breathes, his eyes glowing red and Stiles swallows thickly as Derek’s hand tightens around him. Stiles watches, wetting his lips as Derek crawls down his body and pauses, mouth hovering over Stiles’ cock, looking up expectantly.

  
Stiles stares; his gaze flicking between Derek’s eyes, Derek’s mouth and the head of his own dick. It’s not until Derek’s fingers twitch -- threatening to get even tighter and possibly cause irreparable damage to a vital part of Stiles’ anatomy -- that Stiles realizes he’s waiting for something. Of course he is; it’s not enough that Stiles is lying submissive and pliant beneath him. No -- Derek wants him to say it out loud.

  
“Mine,” he repeats, barely more than a rumbling growl this time. He’s so needy. Stiles contemplates telling him this for all of two seconds, then he remembers where Derek’s hand (claws) and mouth (teeth) are currently positioned and beats that idea back into the box where it belongs.  
  
“Yes, yours,” Stiles replies, his voice rising to an embarrassing squeak when Derek’s mouth finally closes around him and he watches his cock disappear past Derek’s lips.  
  
“Fuck...Derek.” Stiles’ head falls back on the pillow and his hands fist the sheets underneath him. “Warn a guy before you... _oh God..._ do that.”  
  
Derek ignores him, dragging his tongue up the underside of Stiles’ dick and lapping at the pre-come pooling at the tip, before sucking him all the way back in. Derek’s mouth is hot and wet and thankfully free of any sharp points as he works Stiles shaft like a pro.

Stiles manages to stifle an inappropriate giggle at the thought of Derek being a hooker -- this is so not the time to be laughing -- he can only imagine the fallout from that little faux pas.  
  
He’s not going to last. Stiles knows it; he knows that Derek knows it, and when Derek hums -- well it feels more like a purr -- the vibrations rolling up from Derek’s chest and traveling along Stiles length, it makes his toes curl with the effort not to come.

“D-Derek...” Stiles stutters out in warning. He knows from several mind-blowing experiences that Derek won’t stop; in fact he’ll keep going until Stiles is left empty and boneless, but Stiles considers it common courtesy to give a little warning before shooting his load.  
  
He’s almost there; the last vestiges of control slipping through his fingers and... _oh my God_...he can feel his cock touch the back of Derek’s throat and it’s.. _.fuck_...it’s too much and he’s crying out and coming in thick, hot spurts, almost blacking out as Derek swallows around him.  
  
Derek makes a satisfied sound, licking his lips as he releases Stiles from his mouth with a wet, filthy sound. Under normal circumstances, Stiles would comment on the fact that Derek makes noises a porn star would be proud of, but he’ll have to let that one slide -- the energy it would require is currently being channeled to his most vital organs - his tongue not being among them.  
  
He can therefore do nothing but stare as Derek sits up, his eyes focused on Stiles face as he reaches for his belt and slowly undoes the buckle. He slides it out of his jeans and throws it... _somewhere_...Stiles is too busy watching for what comes next to bother about where Derek’s belt landed.  
  
Derek frowns with concentration as he pops the button on his jeans, slowly sliding the zipper down and pushing at the material until his cock springs free - standing thick and proud against his belly. Stiles wishes he could touch, wishes he could help get Derek off, but Derek’s awesome blowjob skills have rendered him useless. Besides, this is all about possession - Derek wants to own Stiles, and Stiles is content to let him - For now at least.

  
Derek shuffles forward, spreading Stiles’ thighs wide so he can get as close as possible and wraps his hand around his own cock, stroking lazily up and down as though he has all the time in the world. It’s so unbelievably hot to watch Derek like this -- all that coiled Alpha power bristling under the surface -- his need to possess, to own, to _protect,_ laid bare for Stiles to see. It’s intoxicating, and Stiles doesn’t care what it says about him, or their relationship, that he wants Derek to do _all_ of those things.  
  
Stiles tries to swallow, but his mouth feels too dry. He can’t look away as Derek’s hand starts to move faster and his eyes flash red as he lets his wolf out to play a little. Derek’s whole body stiffens, his head dropping back and even though Stiles’ eyes are fixated on Derek’s cock -- watching the head, wet with pre-come fucking into Derek’s hand -- he can see his teeth start to elongate as he gets closer and closer.  
  
“ _Stiles_...” It’s a low growl, echoing around the room. It’s one of the hottest things Stiles has ever heard and he can hardly breathe as Derek’s gaze snaps to his and he fists his dick, once, twice more and then he’s coming - painting Stiles’ belly with long, thick stripes.  
  
They’re both breathing heavily afterwards-- well actually Stiles is heaving great gulps of air likes he’s run a marathon and Derek looks like he’s been on a moderately paced walk. Stiles turns to his bedside table to reach for the box of tissues he keeps stashed there, but Derek slaps his hand away with a warning glare.  
  
 _Oh yeah_... there’s still the whole ‘I want to rub my come all over your skin’ thing to deal with yet.  
  
Stiles, lets his hands fall back onto the bed and waits patiently for Derek to do what he needs to do, manfully ignoring the not-so-pleasant feeling of rapidly cooling come all over him.  
  
Derek reaches forward and trails his fingers through the sticky mess on Stiles’ skin; swirling it around -- up towards his chest and down in long, sweeping strokes over his hips. “My scent is all over you,” he whispers, watching his handiwork with a small, but contented smile on his face. It’s such a rare occurrence that Stiles’ would gladly be covered in come if it meant getting to see _that_ every time. Once again he’s so very glad that he can at least keep some thoughts to himself.  
  
Stiles eyes are getting heavy, and although he’d really like a shower or a wet cloth to clean himself up a bit, he suspects from the heavy arm that Derek has draped over his waist, there’s about zero chance of that happening tonight. He just hopes his Dad didn’t hear them, which Stiles suspects is unlikely considering he’d totally forgotten his Dad was in the house, after Derek put his mouth on Stiles’ dick.  
  
Breakfast will be an interesting, if slightly mortifying affair. Stiles thinks about Derek’s smile and decides that yeah -- embarrassingly knowing looks from his Dad aside -- totally worth it.

 

The End.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
